A Reflection of Some Sort

I am home.

I have lots to share, but not sure how to share it. Lots of "stuff" inside, but feeling like that "stuff" just wants to stay right there for the time being.

So that's where I've been hanging out lately: amidst the "stuff." The feelings of joy to be in the familiar; surrounded by what used to be, but recognizing who I am now may just be a bit different than a short year ago. Those aspects of myself, silently changed.

A new quiet, green spaces, forks instead of chopsticks.

That being said, I'd still like to try and share some of this, these feelings, with you. I've decided to use a Wittgensteinian essay format inspired by my readings of John Paul Lederach and Philosopher Ludwig Wittgenstein.

As Lederach wrote, "Start with one idea. Notice where it goes. Number each idea. Keep them short. Don’t worry if you hop around. Read and play with what emerges. It may take a while to understand what you are trying to say. To yourself."

This feels like both an honest and natural way to bring some thoughts together.

So here we go.

There are Tibetan prayer flags hanging on our porch now at home. That is, the home I've now returned to. Red, yellow, blue and green squares blowing in the wind, sending out prayers. Prayers brought here from China, now being carried out from the United States.

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It's comforting. Just knowing that the prayer flags are there, or the small hand-painted tea cups sitting on my desk, or the Buddhist prayer beads my sister wears, or the Chinese Bible from a local book cart in Nanjing printed nearly 25 years ago.

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These are reminders of a country, a culture that welcomed me in and sent me home with heart and hands full.

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There are numerous times when these warm and fuzzy feelings come to the surface:

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The sidewalk conversations with strangers, delicious noodles in hole-in-the-wall places, daily challenges never lacking of new adventure.

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Trusting that there was growth, that my world, my prayers, have now come to include new places with new faces - faces with names.

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But I am also dealing with some yucky feelings.

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China wasn't easy. Maybe I wasn't aware of some of the potential struggles as I boarded the plane last August, or maybe something inside me just said I didn't need to listen. I would face my own challenges soon enough. I would face them and learn to overcome them.

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I would find host families in fish restaurants and community in the kitchen.

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For me, the challenges didn't come as I had expected them to. They weren't staring me in the face. No, rather they hid under the surface, in systemic issues, surrendering to The Powers that be.

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“...没办法...”

(Mei Banfa)

(There is no other way/We have no choice)

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It was one of the common phrases I heard from the many locals I came in contact with throughout the year.

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"Our children have to take extra classes to compete for entrance into a good high school, 没办法," he said.

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"I used to dream of changing this system, feeling as if I had the power to in fact make change, but now I'm older and I've just decided, 没办法," she stumbled.

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I let the anger and frustration overcome me more often than not, letting the weight of our differences, that which I couldn't understand hold me down. Grieving for unattainable hopes I had for my new friends and neighbors.

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I traveled down this road often: the intense frustration soon followed by my own utterings of "没办法."

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I am not proud of some of these responses, but as I reflect on all the experiences I had and emotions I felt, I am thankful for the rawness of it all.

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I am thankful for space to listen to others' stories, both in Chinese and in English.

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I am thankful for those along the way who also made space for me to share my story, to listen to my questions with grace.

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It was in these moments that the words "没办法" didn't seem to matter, the struggles of a culture I was trying so hard to understand and to accept seemed less prevalent. The biases of my own culture silenced.

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And we were, in that moment, together. We chose to accept the here, the place where we found ourselves as one body.

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I am thankful for that.

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The morning before I left for China, my family and I sat on a hotel bed together. The tears began to flow as we listened to the words of John O'Donohue:

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When you travel, you find yourself Alone in a different way, More attentive now To the self you bring along, Your more subtle eye watching You abroad; and how what meets you Touches that part of the heart That lies low at home: How you unexpectedly attune To the timbre in some voice, Opening in conversation You want to take in To where your longing Has pressed hard enough Inward, on some unsaid dark, To create a crystal of insight You could not have known You needed To illuminate Your way.

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I could not have known what these words would mean for me on that day, but I continue to return to them in my time at home.

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My journey in China was one that, at times, felt so dark.

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But it was in the illuminated moments, even if just for a small amount of time, that I knew this was the path I had chosen in response to a deep longing. And I knew the longing had been fulfilled.

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So I am sitting with these thoughts today, as I have made yet another transition to a new place.

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There are Tibetan prayer flags now hanging in my room at Goshen College - prayers from China, Lancaster and now Goshen all being sent away with the wind.

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A reminder of connection.

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I am still wrestling with what this past year in China means for me.

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At times, there are tears.

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But I am choosing to trust that the stories I gathered this past year have made a home in the deep places inside of me, not to be forgotten.

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I am thankful to China for that.

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And thank you, for following along with me on this journey. For your notes of love and support, comments on blogs and constant prayers. I am happy to share more with you if you're interested.